Clint trusted Steve with everything...
The Mockingbird
Clint remember vividly the first time he and Steve laid eyes on each other. It had been unintentional. Steve had been searching for Natasha, and as she always was when he was hurt the spy had been at his side, watching over him while he got his feet back under himself.
The archer remembers the way Steve had looked only at Natasha, nearly ignoring him. He remembered when he offered to fly the Quinjet the soldier had looked to Natasha for reassurance and approval. Clint remembered how Steve had hovered at Natasha's side during the battle. The way he'd rushed to shield her and left Clint to scramble for himself. He remembered Steve had always called on Natasha first through the coms, how Clint had to call out to Steve to get his attention.
It shouldn't have hurt Clint that much, it was more than reasonable then. Clint had been a traitor, even if his mind hadn't been his own at the time. He'd killed good men, destroyed the Helicarrier and set the wolf among the sheep hindering attempts to keep Loki contained. There was no reason in all the world for Steve to trust or give a damn about Clint at all.
It'd hurt, though it shouldn't have. They had no bond other than what had built in the firefight of Manhattan. And that was not enough for Clint to care... but care he did.
Enough so that in the aftermath he'd been reluctant to approach... but he'd seen that shard of glass, wedged under Steve's shoulder blade and oozing blood. The tear in the uniform showing the bruised and swelling flesh underneath, smeared with grit and grime. Just asking to grow infected and septic. So he'd approached, tried to be distant as he cleaned the wound and stitched it closed, but they'd talked. Shared a sparse few details about each other.
That had been when their true bond began.
And grew in a wild fire rush. The threads of their lives and souls had caught. They didn't tangle, not in the way so many metaphors, rom-coms and romance novels lamented about. Their heartstrings braided together, slowly, carefully woven into a cord over time until it bound them together as tightly as any rope.
At the love they bore for each other ran deeper so did their trust. Steve more than once told Clint how he so totally entrusted his life to the archer, that he entrusted his heart to him, the way he hadn't with any other. It had nearly broken the archer to know the gift he'd been given. He swore to himself to never abuse it and to never let Steve down.
In return Clint was more than willing to give the soldier his whole heart and all his trust... so he told Steve about Bobbi Morse. Other than the Mockingbird herself only one other person alive knew the extent of what Morse had done to Clint. And Natasha never breathed a word of it herself.
Clint told Steve how they and their Handlers had been contracted together as a team. How in the whirlwind and romance of being swept up from the gritty violent streets of Las Angles' Southland to the whirlwind that was SHIELD. The exotic destinations, life as a spy and sniper. It was like some kind of romance novel... and Clint had tumbled head over ass right into the fantasy of it and right into love with Morse.
And it had cost him. His heart and nearly his life too.
Morse didn't like being under a Handler, she hated her every move being monitored and she charmed Clint into slipping their lead. Just for a night, get away and enjoy Morcco. Clint, lovestruck and romanticized, fell right into line behind her. A mad dash of a night, local food and entertainment, drunk on the freedom of their abandoned posts and coms they had been reckless and drawn far to much attention to themselves.
It had been painfully easy for them to be captured.
At this point in the story Clint had stalled for a moment. Gathered himself. Only the light brush of Steve's fingers over his wrist, the barest breath of a touch kept him going. It was a small gesture that they had kept for themselves. The light touch, over the thrum of their pulses. A reassurance that the other was there, real, alive.
The archer took strength from it. Soldiered on, doing his best to detach himself from the memory but it still burned and ached.
Captured, battered, bruised and then bargaining. Clint had kept his mouth shut, too loyal and too angry at himself for the stupidity of their mistake to let even his name slip. But Morse had no such loyalty. Not even to Clint, her partner and teammate. She sang as easily as her namesake. She gave herself and Clint away, gave away Phil and her own Handler. She told them their mission, their locations, their plans. Everything.
It bought her freedom. Clint wasn't so lucky...
And Morse... Morse had left him there... and hadn't gotten help either.
He'd spent three weeks in pure darkness. His eyes tightly bound so he only had his poor hearing and other senses to go on. He'd been beaten, carved up, wounds washed with salt water and never allowed to heal more than a few hours when they were torn open again. They'd even water boarded him for a full day.
Morse had lied to Phil and her own Handler, swearing up and down that she'd left Clint drinking in a bar and gone right back to their camp set. Lied for three weeks while Clint was shredded, until they had found him, dug him out and had him medievacced.
Steve wanted to know why it was such a big secret, why wasn't this common knowledge? The archer had ducked his head shamefully and whispered because he'd lied for Morse. Despite her betrayal, he'd still loved her. He'd followed along with her lie, claiming drinking in the bar and blowing his own cover. He'd saved her skin from SHIELD taking her apart or killing her, at the sacrifice of his own torture.
Phil had suspected, guessed and that was why Bobbi Morse was in Europe, working for SHIELD there as a specialist. Clint had no contact, had no reason to seek her out and never intended to again. But had saved her when she didn't do the same for him.
Clint had dropped his head and shut his eyes tight, refusing to look up towards Steve, he didn't want to see the disappointment. Didn't want to see what the soldier thought of his deception against justice for himself. He'd even pulled his hand free from Steve's grip.
The moment of silence had hurt Clint far more than it should have. But it was short lived. Before Clint could get up, get away, find someplace to go and hide himself as he relived his shame, Steve had caught him, pulled him close and held him tightly. Clint had sagged and cried quietly. Half in ache and half in relief. Steve scolded him softly for not standing up for himself but no more than that and held him tightly. It was a far cry from how Natasha had reacted but Clint curled up in the warmth of Steve's embrace and relaxed, letting Steve soothe him.
And if, some weeks later when a pretty blonde visiting the SHIELD headquarters approaches Steve and tells him her name is Barbara Morse, the super soldier is especially cold, aggressive and down right rude to her before informing everyone in the visiting group that he would not now, nor ever, work with Agent Morse, well... Clint doesn't need to know that.
A/N: Alright this was inspired by some obvious trust issues that Steve had towards Clint during the movie, so I used that and some HEADCANNON of what happened between Bobbi and Clint to really play up the 'trust' theme here. Hope you guys enjoyed! And again. HEADCANNON between Bobbi and Clint.